Avenging the Falsebearer
by Ryou VeRua
Summary: YGOHP Crossover. Ryou and Bakura have fled Domino to face something from Bakura's not so distant past. Yugi, Malik, and their yamis are determined to hunt them down. R.A.B. is back. And Year Seven at Hogwarts begins... BEING EDITED, TEMPORARY HIATUS
1. The Cave

**Avenging the Falsebearer**

Yes! My very first fic! I'm Rua...and this is an HPxYGO. Yes, there are many of those out there...but please give it a try! And this fic is dedicated to Briallyn (read her story! So good!)...who helped me get started...and told me how to get things to work on here, because I couldn't do it myself! --; It's right before the final sealing and after the Memory World...so, there will be spoilers in later chapters. And yes, I shamelessly stole the title of one of the chapters in HP, and the letter. But they were needed!

Disclaimer: I don't own HP or YGO and their characters...but I'll steal Ryou! -runs off with Ryou cackling evilly-

Yami to Hikari, Hikari to Yami, general mind action and w/e: _blah_

* * *

**The Cave**

The sky was still darkening, but the night was already unnaturally cold. Few people were out at night anymore, because, apart from it being unbearably foggy, it seemed that the atmosphere was sucking the very happiness out of the air. This held true everywhere including in a small English village, along the cliffs overlooking the sea. The streets were deserted for no one would leave the warmth of their home if they could help it, save for a lone figure cloaked in black. He made his way out of the village, walking swiftly and silently.

He barely registered his surroundings; his mind was focused on the task ahead, calculating his next actions with careful precision. He climbed down the rocky edge with almost inhuman speed, all the while repeating in his mind exactly what he needed to do. His heart was racing with anticipation; he hadn't done this for so long…

He jumped the last few feet of slippery rock, landing gracefully on the half-submerged boulder nearest to the cliff face. He scanned the hard wall of stone in front of him, until finally –

'And there it is.'

There was a small crack at the base, leading into the very heart of the stone. He knew of two ways he could reach his destination; he could swim as he had previously, but now that he knew exactly where he was headed, another option had opened up for him. He could swim, or…

He reached into the back of his mind for an old, faded memory. He mentally made a grab for it, and smirked triumphantly when the fuzzy images played themselves out in front of him.

_He lazily pushed away the messy ebony bangs that were blocking his view. From what he could tell, he was in a large chamber, but far from alone. There were many around him; about his age, though he couldn't tell how he knew that, because all of their faces were blurry. He focused on the front of the room, where a man had been speaking. 'An Apparition Instructor' his mind supplied. _

"_There are three things you must remember when Apparating, the three D's! Destination, Determination, and Deliberation–"_

The memory suddenly began to disappear in a massive vortex of colour and sound and he grimaced as he was freed of the memory's hold. 'Damn…' he thought. He had been hoping for more and was left with exactly what he had seen before. He was just fortunate that it was suitable for his purpose.

He concentrated on a simple image in his head. A cave, smooth, blank walls surrounding on three sides, and behind, perfectly carved stone steps leading into the swirling black water. He concentrated, willing all of his being to appear there, and gave a quick turn. A pressure came in from all sides, everything went black, it was as if giant hands were grasping him, squeezing tightly –

And he was there. He took a few staggering steps, steadying himself with one hand against the smooth surface of the wall. After a moment of recovering, he strode forward, his hand never leaving the wall, as if feeling for a something invisible. After a few moments of silent contemplation, he paused, stroking one spot repeatedly.

He had found it - he knew what to do. From inside his robes, he drew out a small dagger, with a hand-carved mahogany handle. He slowly pushed up the left sleeve of his cloak up to his shoulder, revealing pale skin and a long scar. He traced it with the flat side of his blade.

"I'm sorry…" he murmured, before biting back a sharp cry as he reopened the scar. He held his arm up to the wall, painting it a dark red. He watched, satisfied, as an archway of silver light formed around the rock and the blood, and it all simply vanished, leaving a doorway into complete darkness.

'Darkness…' He smirked at the thought. As if that would ever stop him! He thrived in the darkness. He was about to walk forward when a timid voice made him pause.

_Yami, you never told me... What are you trying to do?_

He growled in annoyance. "Do we have to discuss this right now?"

He felt a surge of guilt seep through their mental link. _I'm sorry, you're right. I shouldn't have bothered you..._

The voice began to fade away and he cursed mentally. He had worked so hard to win back his trust! He couldn't lose it now! -No, Ryou! You do deserve an explanation at the very least. Just don't expect it to be too long. I can feel something stirring ahead.-

_Right_. The guilt was replaced with curiosity and he allowed himself to relax again.

"Revenge for someone long gone." He slipped his hand slipped into his pocket, and brought out a small golden locket, letting the tiny golden chains dangle from his hand as he split it open. After a moment of fiddling, it was done. He carefully removed a parchment fragment, and read aloud.

_To the Dark Lord_

_I know I will be dead long before you read this_

_but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret._

_I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can._

_I face death in the hope that when you meet your match,_

_you will be mortal once more._

_R.A.B._

_But Bakura... N-No, you - you can't go!_ Ryou stammered. _We just... you can't! Why?_

"Do you really think that the pharaoh will just let me walk away, especially after what I've done?" Bakura snapped. He felt Ryou's fear flood the link, and he sighed. "You remember what we did and all that I have done. He will find us soon, I can feel it. And I will pass on."

There was silence for a moment, and Bakura walked purposefully towards the entrance.

_Before you do this... Please, answer this last question._ The voice faltered for a moment before finally, _Who... Who are you doing this for?_

He halted just before the archway, and murmured so softly that Ryou almost missed it. "My last host, my Falsebearer... James Potter." And with that, Bakura walked into total darkness.

* * *

No, that's definitely not the end. Lots of details to explain, and such. So? Good, bad? Please review! Short, long, critical, I'll take it! I'll even take flames -hides mallet behind back, smiles innocently- What?

_Click the button... Do it... Now..._

-Latest editting (again, slightly) February 10, 2009


	2. The Man Behind the Name

**Avenging the Falsebearer**

Sorry I took so long...it's a well-known fact that I need to work on my time management skills. --; Kill me, yell at me, yes, I deserve it...

But anyways, I can't believe that my first fic, my first chapter...got 26 reviews. Wow.

Also, I'd just like to say, I'm gonna answer all reviews in my profile.

So before we get started...YOU ARE ALL THE GREATEST! XD -clears throat- Anyways...I'd like to thank the reviewers: **Neko kitsune**, **Hedwig-the-MilleniumOwl**, **Zar**, **Briallyn**, **Sakina the Fallen Angel**, **NubianQueen413, Saffron-Starlight,** **Kikyo's killer, Kiku Okassu**, **I am a Catlover,** **Dark Samurai,** **BakuraXMalik's Boys, Switchblade237,** **Mistress-Shadowkat,** **Naive Goth,** **tamashiipurizuma,** **mistressKC - wanteddeadoralive, Bakura-N-Me, Heather, OvenFresh, POP, tsutsuji,** **moonlighthikari, Saori Aki Orimi, Isis the Sphinx, **and **Bakura o aishimasu. **Please don't forget to check my profile for your responses!

Don't get too bored on the beginning, guys. Oh, and there are two official pairings, and those are the ones from HP: RonxHermione and HarryxGinny. There's not going to be anything huge though.

This story is, as said before, dedicated to Briallyn. Read her story!

Disclaimer: I don't own HP or YGO and their characters...but I'll steal Ryou! -runs off with Ryou cackling evilly-

Yami to Hikari, Hikari to Yami: -blah-

* * *

**The Man Behind the Name**

They still hadn't found anything.

The three of them were currently in Ron Weasley's room at the Burrow. Harry Potter felt for the cold locket in his pocket, the source of all of his most recent headaches. He clenched it tightly in his hand, feeling it digging into his skin. It would definitely leave an imprint, but he didn't care. Ever since they had gotten back, they had been searching for a possible candidate for the person behind the name, but the two-man list of Rosalind Antigone Bungs and Rupert 'Axebanger' Brookstanton had been ultimately not touched.

The Ex-Auror had been an surprisingly helpful resource. Harry, Ron and Hermione had all watched, mouths slightly agape, as Moody had taken out his trunk with seven locks, fitted a key into the third lock, and revealed an assortment of old clippings from the _'Daily Prophet'_ and others. When asked why, he had just snorted.

"You need to know the past so you can plan for the future, and keep track of filth so you are prepared to face them later... " he had growled, one small dark and beady eye locked on them, the other electric blue magical eye whirling about everywhere. "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he roared a moment after, all three of them jumping in shock. It only took them a few minutes after to gather the articles and leave. ("Mental, that one," Ron had said later, shaking his head. Harry was inclined to agree.)

So that left them, after a full month with no progress, digging through old and yellowing articles from the _'Daily Prophet' _and _'Evening Prophet'_, and feeling a small twinge of amusement whenever he saw an occasional clipping from _'The Quibbler'_. But the amusement began to wear off as time passed and the three became more and more doubtful of an end to their search. Even Harry, filled with more determination then the others, was beginning to wonder if this was a lost cause. Certainly there were other ways of continuing on his journey. He still hadn't gone to Godric's Hollow, where his parents had died, as he had originally planned. This, though, might have been due to a bit of nervousness on his part, to finally visit the place where it had all started.

The summer so far hadn't been so horrible, Harry supposed, considering all that had happened before. Dumbledore's death seemed now rather distant. Even though Voldemort had been much more active as of late, there had been no signs of the him hunting down Harry – which was, as far as he concerned, nothing short of a miracle. In fact, while it was now expected to see an exceedingly long obituary, nothing...big had happened. It was the calm before the storm.

There was some normalcy though. Both Bill and Fleur's wedding and Remus and Tonks' wedding had gone without a hitch, though they had been rather small and quiet. Now both of the newlyweds were living with each other, trying to create a normal lifestyle for themselves while taking on missions from the Order of the Phoenix, a group of wizards and witches created by Dumbledore for the sole purpose of defeating Voldemort, all the while. It was strange though; the Burrow now seemed rather empty, though all of them and others never failed to visit often. This was now the unofficial headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix after all, even if the most discussed in the quick meetings held were the latest news of their target. On the bright side, it left the three of them relatively unbothered while they continued on their hunt for the man behind the name.

"Rubbish! It's all rubbish!" Hermione said, voice filled with frustration. She tossed aside an article with the headline of 'YOU-KNOW-WHO SIGHTING IN BULGARIA'.

"Well what do you expect?" said Harry, watching one of the Chudley Cannon posters as the orange-clad chaser inside narrowly dodged a bludger. "It's the _Daily Prophet_. All of their stories have been twisted."

"Well I was hoping for something...the things they've printed over the years..._honestly_..." she sighed, clearly upset that reading had failed her.

Ron nudged Harry in the side, forcing him to tear his eyes away from the poster. "Look at this one, mate."

Harry blinked at the clipping was forced into his hand. It featured a poorly taken black and white picture of a small boy with pale hair and a matching complexion. His eyes, however, were wide and dark, almost like a doe. The boy stared up at Harry, blinking owlishly, and fiddling with the cord around his neck. The title of the article though, was most surprising.

Harry looked back at Ron, "Are you serious?"

"Yeah," said Ron. "Whoever wrote this is a real case for St. Mungo's. Go on, read it then," he added. Hermione was now watching them curiously.

Harry read aloud:

_"The Next You-Know-Who?"_

_"Alarming events have been taking place in Liverpool_, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. _After living in a peaceful existence with the downfall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the wizarding community may find itself on the verge of a great new impending danger. Recently, there have been a surge of victims, muggle and wizard alike, whom have all fallen into a seemingly random comatose state. The only common link: Ryou Bakura, 8._

_"'I don't know what that devil child did, I just want my Andrea back!' said Eliza Tarewill tearfully, 46, mother of one of the latest children to suffer at the hands of the boy. 'He had invited her over, along with two other friends, to play a game, she had told me. But his parents had failed to mention – he had a history of these incidents – I would have never let her gone –' she continued before turning away."_

_"The boy however, who had at first refused to say anything, finally said that he had no memory of the time he spent with his playmate from when the 'game' was started. He added afterwards that he had simply woken up to see them as they are now, just like the other times."_

_"Bakura, the _Daily Prophet _can exclusively reveal, is prone to these 'black-outs' often, where he is unable to recall anything in the said time." _

_"Even the top experts at St. Mungo's hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries are baffled. These cases are completely unique, they said. But a pattern was found: Just as with the Killing Curse, the victims are all in perfect health, except for the fact that they have fallen into a coma."_

_"'It's Dark Magic,' one specialist said. 'Quite possibly a new curse, but more importantly, one that has no known counter-curse for the time being.'"_

Harry paused to look up at Hermione and Ron. Hermione had a disgusted look on her face, while Ron appeared to be horribly confused.

"They said all of that about a child?" Hermione said angrily. "That horrid woman... if she wasn't already –"

"A seven year old, doing Dark Magic? Are they serious?" Ron said bemused. "Blimey... Hermione," he added, turning to Hermione who had been muttering venomously under her breath. "You know, it can't be all false. I mean, loads of the stuff they had said was probably made up but what happened still happened. It just probably isn't this Baka-"

"Bakura," Hermione automatically corrected him.

"Whatever it is..." Ron began again, shooting an annoyed look at her. "It isn't his fault, that's all."

"How old is this article?" asked Harry. On the outside, he was emotionless, but his heart was pounding at the realization he had just made.

"Why -" started Ron, confused, but Hermione cut him off excitedly.

"Because, Ron, his initials are R. B.!" said Hermione feverishly, snatching the paper and scanning it. "And if his middle name matches, and the age is rig –" She paused for a moment, brows furrowed, and her face fell.

"What is it?" Harry said carefully. This could be it, they could've reached the end of this search...

"Harry, this article was taken just less then a decade ago... there's no way it could be this person... he'd only be about our age right now." said Hermione, crestfallen. She put the article on top of their discarded pile of useless clippings, and Harry's heart sunk once again.

"We were so close this time, too!" said Ron, shaking his head. "Well, best get started on the next one." Harry simply sighed dejectedly and took the next article. He had only started reading it when a loud knock interrupted him, and Ron's sister, Ginny Weasley, popped her head though the door. Harry's heart leapt slightly but he forced himself to ignore it. He and Ginny had already agreed about this; with Voldemort alive, they couldn't have any semblance of a relationship.

"Mum's got dinner almost ready, and Tonks is over. Aren't you tired of doing that?" she added, looking at the articles that had almost completely covered the floor. Harry tried to ignore how Ginny's eyes lingered on him for a few moments before darting to the others.

"Yes," said Ron bluntly. He had already jumped up and started stretching. "And I'm starving. This'll make a good break," he said quickly, looking over to Hermione who had given him a disapproving look. She sighed and nodded to Ginny.

"We'll be down there in just a moment," said Hermione. Ginny disappeared from behind the door, and Hermione turned back to Ron.

"Well, I'll see you in a minute," Hermione said cheerfully. Ron looked quite annoyed, and she sighed in exasperation. "Ron, I wish you wouldn't get so worked up about this. You'll pass your Apparation test next time!"

Ron opened his mouth, but Hermione had already disapparated with a loud crack. Ron shot an angry look at the spot where she had stood.

"I wouldn't mind so much if she didn't do it every bloody day!"

Harry grinned, his first in a few hours, and quickly gathered the papers into a messy pile. "C'mon, Ron," he said, standing up and shaking his legs, which had already fallen asleep. "We can just walk down the stairs. You know, the old fashioned way."

"The _muggle_ way. Stupid git, failing me for leaving behind half an eyebrow..." grumbled Ron as he followed Harry out of the room and down the stairs.

The two reached the kitchen where Ginny and Hermione were already sitting at the table, and Tonks, with a heart-shaped face and spiked bubblegum-pink hair making her look considerably more cheerful, was talking animatedly with Mrs. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley, short, plump, and with the customary Weasley fiery red hair, looked as if she was having a bit of trouble keeping a conversation as well as finish making dinner.

"... so I'll be starting there this year, she said! But just for a year, I don't think I'd be able to do more then that. Remus said he'd help me with the material though, so no worries there. Oh, let me get that, Molly," said Tonks, reaching for the gravy bowl.

"No dear, that's quite alright –" started Mrs. Weasley, but Tonks had already knocked it over. She winced and gave a quick wave of her wand; the bowl righted itself and the contents refilled. "How about you just sit down at the table..."

"Sorry about that," Tonks said apologetically.

Harry sat down at the table beside Hermione, Ron took her other side. Tonks came after quickly and winked at them. "Wotcher Harry, Ron."

"Hello Tonks," said Harry, watching as the cooked turkey flew across the room and settled on the table, the gravy cup following it shortly after. A large knife floated over gracefully, embedding itself in the turkey. Mrs. Weasley came over, sat herself down, and began cutting it.

"No point in waiting, Arthur said earlier he would probably be late this evening," she said, passing out the generous pieces.

"Remus will be here in about an hour or so," added Tonks, carefully pouring gravy over her piece. "He said not to wait for him either."

"Oh," Mrs. Weasley said, and waved her wand. Cranberry sauce appeared in the center of the table. "Cranberries, dear?"

"No thank you."

"So, tell me more about your new job…"

As soon as the two women were immersed in their conversation, Ginny turned to Harry and Ron, beaming.

"Ron, Harry," Ginny said excitedly. It couldn't have been more obvious that she had been waiting to tell them the news. "Did you hear? Hogwarts isn't closing! It was really close, too, but the governors decided that it would be better for us young wizards and witches to keep on training, just in case! McGonagall is going to be the Headmistress and -"

"I'm not going."

Ginny stopped. "What?"

"I said," Harry repeated, "I'm not going."

Ginny looked at Ron and Hermione questioningly. Hermione let out a small sigh, and Ron was concentrating suspiciously hard on pushing a piece of chicken around his plate with his fork.

"So," Ginny said, turning back and staring at Harry with forced calm, "when did you decide this, exactly?"

Harry met her gaze unwaveringly. "The end of the school year."

Ginny's eyes seemed to harden, though it could have been his imagination. "You never mentioned that before. Part of that hero-complex of yours?"

"Ginny," Harry began, raising his voice slightly, "You knew what I had to do! Why do you suddenly have a problem with it now?" Ron and Hermione both kept their heads down this time, looking guilty.

"Because I didn't think you'd skip out on your last bloody year, that's why!" Ginny said back just as forcefully.

By this time, the other two had tuned into their conversation.

"Not… not going to Hogwarts? Harry, dear...?" Mrs. Weasley said cautiously. Harry looked at Ginny, who was visibly struggling not to say anymore.

Harry sighed inwardly, composing himself again. He'd been hoping he wouldn't have to get into this subject for at least another week or two. "I had made this decision earlier. I can't go."

Tonks looked at him worriedly. "That probably isn't the smartest thing, Harry. Think about –"

"I'm not changing my decision," Harry interrupted. There was silence for a moment.

"W-Well..." started Mrs Weasley, slightly flustered. She quickly turned to Tonks. "How has Remus been lately..."

The only ones talking for the rest of the meal were Mrs Weasley and Tonks. Ginny pointedly ignored Harry for the dinner, instead listening to the two adults half-heartedly, adding in her own occasional comment here and there. Ron and Hermione were sending Harry sideways glances, and Harry simply ate his dinner without looking up, determined to avoid all conversation. As soon as the last bit of food was off of his plate, Harry stood quickly, knocking over his chair in the process, but he made no move to pick it up. Once again, all conversation stopped quickly.

"I'm going for a walk," he said tersely. He strode across the kitchen, opened the door to the empty yard and walked out. Ron quickly got up after him.

"Don't worry about it, he's just a bit stressed, that's all... I'll go after him..." said Ron, rushing after him, carefully closing the door after them. Ron spotted Harry almost half way across the yard and ran after him, a few chickens scattering as he went through them, clucking indignantly.

"Hey - _Hey!_ Wait up!" he called. He finally reached him and slowed his pace to match Harry, who hadn't acknowledged him at all. "What was that about?"

"I'm not going back," said Harry quietly, not looking at Ron. "I said it before and I'll say it again, I'm not going back to Hogwarts. I _told_ you and Hermione this at... at the burial. Remember?"

Ron frowned slightly. "Well, I know... and I knew you were serious about it," he added quickly. "I just thought, now that Hogwarts is back open and all, you might want to reconsider -"

"There's nothing for me to reconsider, Ron," Harry cut in. "I'm not helping anyone in there. The rest of those horcruxes are out there, somewhere. I need to go and find them."

An uncomfortable silence filled the air for the next ten minutes as they continued on. Ron was following Harry, and Harry wasn't thinking about where he was going. Soon, they were nearing the muggle village Ottery St Catchpole, but Harry wasn't interested in going back. Not yet.

They were walking in the empty streets, shops dark and closed all around them. As they rounded the next corner, Ron bumping into an oddly dressed blonde teenager ("Can't bloody watch where he's going," Ron muttered), he finally decided to break the silence.

"What if you don't find out who this R.A.B. person is though? How are you going to keep going?" asked Ron.

Harry paused. He hadn't given much thought to that particular question yet. He hadn't wanted to think about it.

"I'm... not sure yet," he said honestly. "But I'll think about that when it comes to it, I guess. For now –"

Ron suddenly shivered slightly, looking around wildly.

"Did you feel that?"

Harry was rooted to the spot. The streets had suddenly got ice cold, and it had suddenly gotten dark, as if the moon had been blocked out. Street lamps had gone out, and they were surrounded in complete silence.

"Get out your wand," Harry said, taking out his own quickly and squinting behind his glasses, listening carefully. This had to be a mistake... this couldn't happen again, could it? He grabbed Ron quickly; he had just heard a rattling breath, just about at the end of the street. He heard a sharp intake of breath; Ron had heard it too.

Ron swore quickly, taking out his wand. "_Lumos!_" said Ron hoarsely. Light erupted from the tip of his wand, and Harry felt a horrible feeling of dread; there were eight cloaked figures drifting slowly towards them.

Harry pointed his wand ahead of him, mind quickly concentrating on Ron beside him, and Hermione and Ginny back at the Burrow.

"_Expecto Patronum!_"

A large silver stag burst out of his wand and charged straight at the Dementors. Ron, however, was not having the same luck.

"_Expecto Patronum..._" he whispered weakly, eyes wide. A silvery cloud floated out of his wand.

"_Expecto P-Patronum..._" This time, only a silvery wisp of smoke came out. Harry turned, horrified, just in time to see Ron's eyes roll up to the back of his head as he fell.

"RON!" yelled Harry. He hadn't even taken a step forward when he heard the many hoarse, rattling breathes even closer to him. They were coming...

He turned back to the Dementors and his stag, which was no longer faring so well. Harry could feel the happiness being sucked out of him as they approached.

Think of something happy... _think of something happy... _but he couldn't take his eyes off of Ron who had barely moved from where he had collapsed. _Get up Ron, get up!_

Ron wasn't moving. Despair was filling Harry, and the first Dementor separated from the group, grey scabby hands reaching for him.

Darkness was already beginning to creep into his vision. The stag seemed to be distant and was flickering in and out of existance. He could hear a horrible memory in his head... he could almost _see_ it, faintly... that had never happened before...

_'Lily, take Harry and go! It's Him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off –'_

_The sounds of someone stumbling from a room – a door bursting open - a cackle of high-pitched laughter – a flash of golden light –_

_'I'll hold him off – alone!' _

_Another brilliant light – something clattered to the floor – words spoken triumphantly - a rushing sound, green filled the room – a loud thump as a body fell –_

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" a voice roared from beside him, bringing Harry back to reality. "Diaboundou! Attack now!"

From the stranger's wand erupted a gargantuan creature, making Harry's look very small in comparison; the patronus dove at the Dementors flapping its great wings, its snake tail hissing and spitting. It worked seamlessly with the stag patronus, which was now as bright as ever, sending two of the Dementors flying; the first one was caught squarely in the chest by the stag's antlers, the one closest to him thrown by the snake.

Another Dementor was gliding towards Ron. Harry's eyes widened.

"GET IT!" he hollered, and the stag galloped past him. The Dementor had just reached Ron when the stag charged into it, sharp antlers piercing through its black robes where the thing's heart should have been. With a toss of its head, the Dementor was sent flying. Harry spun around quickly to help take care of the others to see a strange sight.

The stranger jerked backwards as if he had been shot, whirling around to face a Dementor who had just began to reach out into empty air just beside him, grey slimy hands reaching to snatch something imperceptible. Harry froze for a moment. There _was_ something there. It seemed that whatever invisible something it had seized was appearing. A hazy shimmer, still held in its clammy grip, became more and more obvious. Harry squinted at the shape it was forming. Was that a person...? But before he could make any conclusions, a silvery fist closed around the Dementor and hurled the thing away, forcing it into an early retreat, and the transparent figure disappeared as if it was never there.

The stranger stalked forward, and Harry could almost feel the fury radiating off his body. He threw out his arm, pointing at the four remaining of the Dementors, and his patronus swept after them. The Dementors had no chance. They were quickly tossed aside and they soared away.

Slowly, warmth filled the street again with the flight of the Dementors, but Harry took no notice. He ran to where Ron lay pale and shaking slightly, the stranger already kneeling down beside him. For a brief moment, he wondered why Ron had been affected like this when the last time, in the third year, he had one of the smallest reactions of them all. That was until he realized with a sick feeling the many things that had happened since then; the fight in the Ministry, when he had been poisoned, the attacks on Mr. Weasley and Bill Weasley, his brother, the battle that had taken place in Hogwarts just one month ago...

"The boy is fine," said the stranger, voice slightly rough but somehow, which Harry found odd, undeniably young. He glanced quickly at the other man, but he had already turned away, what little Harry may have been able to see obscured by unruly white hair. Slender pale hands raised the hood back over his head, and by the time the mysterious person had turned back around, his face was indistinguishable once again. "We need to bring him back to wherever he came from. You too, for that matter," he said. The man paused to look him up and down – at least, that's what Harry assumed, he was unable to see even the simplest of facial expressions that may have crossed his face – before continuing. "I'll be coming with you, of course," Harry opened his mouth to protest, but was cut short. "I've already proved to you that I'm not your enemy, and you shouldn't be alone out here, as I am hoping you've already realized."

Harry knew there had to be something wrong with this situation. How could this person miraculously show up at the right time, just as he was in need of saving the most? Harry stared at the gleaming dark eyes hidden in shadow, hoping for some more proof to tell him off, but nothing came. He also knew though, that the hooded figure had helped him, and he would be in trouble if there was another attack before he arrived back at the Burrow. And he couldn't carry Ron alone...

"Alright," Harry said grudgingly. "I'll lead the way, but you need to carry him."

The stranger, with surprising ease, picked up Ron, placing him carefully over his shoulder. Harry shot one last warning look at him before starting off again, careful to keep him in his sight. Unbeknownst to him, a grim smile flicked across the stranger's face as he followed Harry back to the Burrow.

* * *

This chapter's a lot longer than the last one, isn't it? O.o 

I had a lot of fun writing the article, I'll admit it. I just thought that the wizard community would notice Bakura's little 'soul doll spree'.

Ginny and Harry are going through some rough times. –pouts- Hope they get through that.

If anyone's wondering about Bakura's patronus, don't forget, a patronus is basically a guardian that is unique to the person that summons it. Sounds a bit like a ka, doesn't it? XD And if anyone here is unfamiliar with what a patronus actually is, or has any other questions that they need answered, just ask.

For the most part, the plot is fixed. Of course, since I plan to put a lot of work in these chapters (most likely reading through them and editing them repeatedly) and I'm also a very slow person, they will definitely take longer to post then one every week like you may be used to with other authors, though hopefully not as long as this last posting. Sorry again, guys...

If anyone has questions or suggestions, I'd be happy to hear! And if you don't mind letting me know what you did/didn't like in your reviews, it would be greatly appreciated. I live to serve, and I write to please (mostly myself... --;).

All flamers will be hunted down and -censored for extreme goriness-. Have a nice day. :D

Update: May 13, 2006

**Edited** (if you wanna call it editing :P): Saturday, February 17, 2007

XD I didn't really do much here either. I'll get to rewriting actual paragraphs eventually…


	3. Malik Ishtar and a Dark Problem

**Avenging the Falsebearer**

Hey. Rua here, and with an update that's much faster then before, even if it has still been a while. I'm proud of myself. :)

I'd like to thank the following: **Isis the Sphinx, Himiq, moonlighthikari, Sekhem, Bakura o aishimasu, Randomly Random, Saffron-Starlight, boo56, ryou's succubi, Hedwig the Millennium Owl, dragonwings64, Twin Tails Speed, Amandana, **and **Angela and MiniMix. **The story is dedicated to Briallyn.

Eh, I didn't get nearly as many as last time...oh well. I'm just glad that you guys liked it enough to review again. I didn't really like the last chapter that much either, to tell you the truth; it was too rushed in the middle section. I probably wouldn't have reviewed myself! So thanks again, guys.

Anyways, I'd also like to point out that this chapter now holds the record as my longest written of anything on this site, at 25 pages. I've spent a lot of time working on it lately, so...I hope it's okay.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own HP or YGO and their characters...but I'll steal Ryou! -runs off with Ryou cackling evilly-

**NOTE**: This is where things get confusing. I, as the author, will refer to characters as one thing, but characters will sometimes refer to one another differently (at this point in the story, anyways).

Ryou - Will be called Bakura by everyone **except** Bakura.

Bakura - Will be called Yami Bakura or Spirit by everyone **except** Ryou, and only when they are talking directly to each other.

Are you confused yet? It might take a bit to get used to, but I hope I made that clear for everyone. :)

I'll also be jumping around in terms of P.O.V. but that's...just because I feel like it. XP

Mind link: -blah-

* * *

**Malik and a Dark Problem**

Malik Ishtar was lost, confused, and annoyed. Lost, because he was in the middle of a foreign country, far away from not only Egypt, but Japan too, in a small dark village that seemed practically deserted, and that he knew absolutely nothing about. Confused, because every single dreary store that he passed, no matter what street he turned on to, all looked the same. Lastly, he was annoyed because after rounding a corner in this dull place, some oaf of a redhead had just gone barreling into him, without giving him even the simplest apology. It was clearly his fault too. He was the one who had been trying to keep up with the fast pace that his dark haired friend had been going at. Somebody could easily get hurt like that, or rather, did. Malik scowled and rubbed the bruise forming on his arm. Things just hadn't been going well lately.

He paused, peering into the nearest dirty window, slightly disgusted by the grime coating it, and scowled again when the effort proved fruitless. Where was everyone? The two boys from before were the only sign of life he'd seen so far after the sun had set, and this didn't make any sense to him; was it some strange custom in this part of the world?

Malik, now thoroughly frustrated, started walking again, this time not bothering to check the buildings for any sign of life. He kicked a pebble angrily, and then again and again, until it dropped into a drain. Swearing, Malik leaned over and examined the drain; he needed that rock to vent his anger out on. Falling onto the ground wasn't part of the plan, however.

"DAMN -"

Malik froze in mid-sentence; while pushing himself up he had come across the strangest sight he had seen in quite some time. Over across the other street, just barely visible from over the roof of the buildings, there was a faint silver glow that seemed to be the outline of some great beast. Just as soon as he had seen it, it was gone. Malik's eyes went wide, and he was up in a flash, jogging back to the street he had just come from. Maybe there was some life in this place after all.

An icy chill passed through him; the Egyptian stopped dead and looked up at the sky. Was it his imagination, or did he see a dark figure fly overhead...? The next thing Malik knew, he was back on the ground, violet eyes staring angrily in the direction of a robed figure and a black haired teenager rushing away. Light reflecting off bright red hair on the back of the figure's robe caught his eyes; wasn't that the person that had bumped into him before? It was. The redhead was thrown hazardously over the figure's shoulder, his head bouncing limply off his back with each stride.

Malik pushed himself back up from the cobblestone road once again, dusting himself off. It only seemed like he had two options at this point. He could either continue his search of this town (which, based on the results he had so far, he could predict it would be fruitless, with such confidence that would make his sister Isis jealous) or he could follow them. It only took him a moment to decide; soon he was jogging slowly after him, careful to stay out of earshot and in the dark.

He knew this could easily end in a dead end, just like all of the other times, but he had a hunch that today would be different. If his gut feelings were wrong, he would have to set off again, following a trail that seemed to have gone cold too long ago, and that was the last thing he wanted, but what other choice did he have? Malik just hoped that his search had finally come to an end.

-O-o-O-o-O-

Two figures hurried down the otherwise deserted country road, one following closely after the other. While one would think at first glance the two would have to be getting on quite well to be at such a close proximity, listening to the conversation would prove otherwise.

"Do you have any idea where you're going?"

"Yes," said Harry through gritted teeth. "We're almost there." He felt his blood boil when the stranger gave a derisive snort.

"Doesn't look like it," the stranger said in a bored manner. "We've been walking for a bit now."

"Look, we _are_ almost there! Why would I take you into the middle of nowhere?"

"Because you don't trust me," said the stranger simply.

"You've got my best mate!" said Harry; he glared angrily at the stranger as if it was his fault Ron was in the state he was in. "I wouldn't just leave him with you!"

The stranger just looked at him with that same gaze from earlier, hidden eyes shining from within the black hood, before turning back to the road ahead. Harry was slightly taken aback, but happy for this newfound silence.

He had expected the stranger to say something back, in that same sarcastic manner that he had before, but there was no answer. In fact, there was nothing but silence between the two of them for the rest of the trip. Harry would take the occasional sideways glance at him, though the other man would never look back. The stranger was an odd one. At the beginning of their journey, the stranger walked in a sort of stride, straightened up to his full height; later in the walk, he thought he had noticed a flash of light out of the corner of his eyes and looked quickly, readying himself for the possible spell, but nothing had happened...or at least not to him. The stranger, on the other hand, seemed different, though it could have just been Harry's imagination. His gait was different, no longer the confident strides from before, but more conservative steps; he was slightly more hunched, though it could have easily been Ron's extra weight finally getting the better of him. What Harry found most unusual though, was that the stranger would sometimes falter, looking out to his other side, cocking his head just slightly as if listening to a voice no one else could hear. The tension in the air had lessened, too; Harry felt a bit more at ease, though he was at a loss as to why.

It was strange how time seemed to pass so much faster now. It wasn't soon until Harry found The Burrow, a mere crooked shape on the horizon before, soon towering overhead. Harry led the stranger into the yard, past the decrepit stone outhouse, currently where the Weasleys stored their broomsticks, to the back door of The Burrow. Hand raised to knock, Harry paused, lowering it and turning to the stranger, who was looking up at the building in awe, he said, lowering his voice to a whisper, "Just let me do the talking, okay? And," Harry hesitated for a moment, "thanks. For helping us out, I mean. I...Well, I guess I shouldn't have given you a hard time, after doing that for us and all..."

The stranger was silent. Harry brought his hand back up, about to knock, when a voice stopped him.

"You're welcome."

His voice was different then before, Harry thought. It was lighter, higher even, without that cutting edge that it seemed to have before, or the tone that made all the words spoken sound scornful; in fact, it now had the almost complete opposite effect.

"I didn't catch your name, before," said Harry, hand lowering a second time.

The stranger faltered for a moment, seeming torn over answering the silent question, inclining his head again just slightly to the side, once again as if listening for the invisible voice. He seemed to be satisfied when a moment later he turned back to Harry, nodding his head slightly, and spoke softly, "My name is Ryou Bakura... though most call me Bakura."

Bells went off in Harry's head; he knew he had heard the name before, but he didn't press the matter. Ron was more important right now. Rapping the door hard, he waited, slightly impatient, for someone to answer.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity (it had only been about a minute) Harry spotted movement behind the kitchen window.

"Who's there?" said the nervous voice of Mrs. Weasley.

"It's me, Harry!"

"Oh, Harry! We were hoping you would be back soon, you know it isn't safe out there -"

Another voice interrupted the first; Harry recognized it as Mr. Weasley. He must have finally come while they were gone.

"You need to ask him a question first!"

"Arthur, this is just ridiculous..."

"Molly, this is standard procedure -"

Harry couldn't wait anymore; Ron needed help as soon as possible.

"We got attacked by Dementors, Ron's hurt! Please, let us in!"

There was a loud yell and the sound of chairs being scrabbled from within; the door flew open and Mrs. Weasley was already out, face white, checking Harry over feverishly.

"Oh, I knew I shouldn't have let you out - what was I _thinking_ - during such dangerous times! Attacked by Dementors, no less -" she froze, letting out a loud sob at the sight of Ron draped over Ryou's shoulder. She was all over Ron quickly, taking no notice of Ryou, who hadn't moved as if afraid that if he did, he might set Mrs. Weasley off. When Mr. Weasley finally came over to relieve Ryou of Ron, Mrs. Weasley rushing after her son, Ryou relaxed visibly.

Harry's vision was momentarily blocked by bushy brown hair when Hermione bowled him over and hugged him, all the while hissing admonitions into his ear.

"You should've known better, what were you thinking - going out after nightfall, of course you were going to get attacked, what were you _thinking_ -"

"I'm still fine, aren't I?" said Harry slightly irritably, pushing Hermione off of him and adjusting his glasses. "Ron's in a bit of a state though, it's him you should be worried about."

"I _am_!" snapped Hermione. "I just hope you think about the consequences of your actions before doing something stupid like that again -"

"Go on, then!"

Hermione sent him a disapproving look, but still hurried back into the house to join the group now congregated around Ron.

Harry turned back to see Ryou still hovering outside the door. Beckoning him in, Ryou nodded gratefully and slipped past him into the house. Harry felt a hand on his shoulder before he moved again though, and looked behind him to see Mr. Weasley; he understood the problem immediately, and stepped through the door, closing it gently.

"It's fine, Mr. Weasley," Harry said in a low voice. "His name's Bakura, and he helped fight off the Dementors."

"He helped you and Ron?" said Mr. Weasley, frowning. He paused, deliberating, and then finally gave a small sigh. "I trust your judgment. If you're sure..."

"I am," said Harry.

Mr. Weasley surveyed him for a moment before nodding slowly.

"Good then. Keep an eye out for him though, just as a precaution. You never know these days..." Mr. Weasley shook his head as if to get rid of a bad memory, which he very well could have been. No one, save for Harry and Ron, had believed that Snape would betray them, always insisting that their accusations were ridiculous. Finding out they were right all along was a bittersweet victory.

Harry walked past Mr. Weasley to see the group that had been crowding around Ron had now turned on Ryou, who was obviously uncomfortable with all the attention by the way he shifted back and forth on his feet.

Remus Lupin, looking gaunter then Harry remembered from last time, was the only one still at the table, evidently in the middle of his dinner. Dressed in a shabby overcoat that looked very worn and was tattered at the edges, with grey hair that seemed much more apparent now then before, Harry felt rather concerned for his ex-Professor and couldn't help but wonder what had become of him after the wedding.

"I'm sorry to intrude," Ryou said carefully. "I saw the attacks, and I just thought I should help him out."

"Well," said Lupin, placing his fork and knife back onto his plate, "I believe I speak for us all when I say we couldn't be more grateful; these are dark times though, as I'm sure you know, and I think that introductions are called for."

"Right," Ryou muttered. "Introductions." And instead of introducing himself, he immediately turned his head slightly, as if listening for that voice that no one heard.

Harry, seeing that this was going nowhere, stepped forward instead and cleared his throat loudly, jerking Ryou out of his dream world.

"Well, I'm Harry Potter."

He paused, waiting for the some reaction; even with his face hidden, he would notice the hood move when Ryou looked at his scar; but there was nothing. Harry was slightly confused, but he continued on. Harry pointed to all of the others in turn.

"The one you carried here was Ron Weasley – this is his family's house – that one over there with the red hair is Ginny Weasley, the other girl is Hermione Granger, this is Tonks and that's Lupin -"

Harry paused again, this time perplexed, when Ryou bowed, robes swishing at his feet.

"And I'm Ryou Bakura, though I go by my family name Bakura..."

The bow was unexpected; for a moment, no one said anything, until Mrs. Weasley finally took the initiative to walk forward and shake his hand.

"Well, thank you for helping Ron, I don't know what I would've done – and of course you, Harry dear, this is the second time in less than a year you've saved him - please, let me help you out of your robes, you must be so hot –"

"If you could," said Ryou thankfully, pulling back his hood.

When the hood fell away, long hair was revealed, falling around his face in thick white locks almost halfway down his back. Big, round, brown eyes were shadowed by long bangs, standing out even more against his pale face, and his light eyebrows were almost completely hidden away. But the strangest thing was that even with the shocking white hair, he was so young. He didn't look a day past seventeen. Shrugging off the robes, his muggle clothes, a plain striped shirt and jeans, were exposed, along with black, slightly worn sling bag. Mrs. Weasley took the robes from his hands, trying in vain not to stare. All eyes were on Ryou now, taking in his strange looks, though Harry was now staring at him for more reason then one.

White hair, large brown eyes, pale skin... An icy cold flooded his stomach. He was the child from the article, the one who had been dubbed 'The Next You-Know-Who'... And he, Harry, had just let him walk into The Burrow, welcoming him with open arms.

All the mistrust from before had returned; he was now feeling foolish for ever believing that Ryou was helping them. It could just as easily be a way to lure Harry out of the house and capture him, and finally give Voldemort the chance he had been waiting for, the chance to kill him and fulfill the prophecy.

Age was no longer a factor either. Last year, Draco Malfoy, just barely older than Harry, had become a Death Eater and was given a mission from Voldemort, which he had attempted to go through with throughout the whole school year...

'Let Bakura try to get me,' thought Harry angrily, 'I'll fend him off like all of his other Death Eater friends.'

Beside Harry, Lupin had set down his fork and knife, and was shuffling through his bag, a small frown on his face.

"I seemed to have forgotten... Do you happen to have chocolate on you, Molly?"

Ryou shot a confused look at Harry.

"It helps after Dementor attacks," said Harry grudgingly.

Ryou couldn't imagine how helpful chocolate would be in a situation like this, after being attacked by great black-cloaked things that could suck out one's soul. The adults, though, seemed perfectly serious about it. Perhaps Bakura could explain later...

"Somewhere in the kitchen, I expect," said Mrs. Weasley, shooting a worried look at all the cupboards. "At least I think we do, I could've sworn I came across some the other day."

"Thank you, I'll get it myself. _Accio chocolate_," said Lupin, waving his wand.

Ryou's eyes were transfixed on the chocolate as it zoomed from out of one of the kitchen cupboards and into Lupin's hand. "That's amazing..." he breathed softly.

"What's amazing?" said Harry, frowning.

"This... The magic, I suppose."

Harry looked at him, confused. "You did that magic back in the alley -"

"Oh!" exclaimed Ryou, eyes widening. There was something else going on here too, Harry decided. Ryou looked as if he had unintentionally revealed a great secret, and Harry's suspicions were rising. "I-I - yes, I did, didn't I, back in the alleyway... T-That spell, what is it again...?"

"The Patronus Charm?" Harry deadpanned.

"Y-Yes, that one," said Ryou, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Harry now knew beyond a doubt that there was something strange about him. Performing difficult spells, never mind the amazing results, and forgetting what the spell even was afterwards...it was too farfetched; he was now determined to find out what was going on.

Fortunately for Ryou, a distraction came in the form of Remus Lupin, who had broken the chocolate into pieces and placed a piece into both of their hands. Harry ate it quickly, but Ryou looked at it in confusion.

"Eat it," said Lupin, slipping what was left into his robe pocket. "It'll help."

There was a pause, where Lupin seemed to be looking him over. Dread filled Ryou when Lupin's eyes lingered for a moment longer on where the ring lay hidden on his chest more then they had anywhere else, and he let out the breath he hadn't know he had been holding when Lupin turned away to Hermione, giving the last piece of chocolate to her. "Give this to Ron when he wakes up, will you?"

Hermione nodded, still ashen-faced and oddly quiet, and looked back to Ron. To Harry and Hermione's relief, Ron was shifting around in his sleep.

"He'll be up and about soon," she said softly, wringing her hands together.

Ryou, trying his best not to dwell on Lupin's actions, ate his piece. To his astonishment, he felt warmth spreading through his body. It did work quite well then. Looking around, he saw Lupin heading over to his left, and quickly turned his head to the right, facing the woman (Tonks, he believed Harry had said) with a heart-shaped face and spiked pink hair, who was watching him with interest.

"Wotcher - Bakura, right? I'm Tonks," she said enthusiastically.

"Yes..." said Ryou. Tonks seemed to give off a friendly vibe, though that could have easily been because of her hair; the bright spikes reminded him of home.

"Ooh, are you a Metamorphmagus too?" asked Tonks interestedly. It had been obvious she had been waiting to ask him this question since his hood had come off. "Never seen hair like that on anyone as young as you before."

"A Meta - a what?"

"A Metamorphmagus," repeated Tonks. "Guess not or you wouldn't be asking again, would you? It's someone who can change their appearance at will." She clenched her eyes shut tightly as if in thought, and Ryou gaped when her hair turned the same shade of white as his and grew down her back. She picked at it, playing with a lock of hair. "Nope, I don't think it suits me. Can't get it as fluffy as yours, anyways." She screwed her eyes up again and her hair shortened back into its original short spikes, turning bubble-gum pink again. "Did you dye it then?"

"It's natural," said Ryou softly, tugging at his own hair self-consciously.

"You must be starving, dear!" Ryou found himself whisked away from Tonks and into the kitchen by Mrs. Weasley.

"Oh no, not really..." said Ryou, trailing off weakly when his stomach gave a large growl.

She gave a small 'tut' and pointed to the cookbooks stacked on the fireplace with her wand and summoned two of them to her. Mrs. Weasley opened the first, titled _Charm Your Own Cheese_, running her finger down the ingredients list of what looked to Ryou like a moldy piece of cheese with large blue boils, if the picture in the book was any indication.

"You are hungry, and I'm going to feed you. It's the least we can do after you helping Ron and Harry. Besides, I haven't made something from this book for weeks, so it'll be nice to try something again. Though mind you, I haven't looked at _Meat and Magic_ for some time either," said Mrs. Weasley, looking back and forth from the first book to the stack on the fireplace wistfully.

"I'm not really that hungry, actually," said Ryou. Looking at the pictures in the book had successfully taken away all of appetite he had before, and he was now feeling rather queasy.

On the other side of the room, a small moan told Harry and Hermione that Ron was waking up.

"Where... where am I?" Ron moaned again, opening his eyes slowly.

"Back home. Ron, that was a stupid, stupid thing for you to do!" said Hermione in a scolding tone, though there were small tears in the corner of her eyes that threatened to fall.

"How's it my fault? I was following Harry!" said Ron indignantly, reenergized in almost seconds.

"Er... So, how are you doing, Ron?" asked Harry, eager to change the subject.

"I feel like I got run over by a dozen Hippogriffs..." groaned Ron, sitting up slowly and stretching. "Other then that, I'm okay. What happened?"

"Long story," said Harry quickly, not particularly wanting to go over the details.

"I fainted, didn't I," said Ron in a hollow voice.

Harry looked to Hermione desperately. She wiped her eyes and regained her composure.

"You got attacked by Dementors, greater wizards would have fainted too," she said consolingly.

"Harry didn't faint," grumbled Ron. "I couldn't even get the bloody patronus out..." But he looked slightly happier.

"Used to faint all the time though, didn't I? All the time in the third year...just need to practice the spell, that's all."

"Yeah," said Ron, thoroughly cheered up.

"Oh, and here is some chocolate from Lupin," said Hermione, pushing it into Ron's hands, ignoring the chocolate splotches on her own hand where the chocolate had melted.

But Ron wasn't paying attention to Hermione anymore. He seemed transfixed with something on the other side of the room.

"Who's the new girl?" he said slowly.

Harry looked in the direction that Ron was currently gazing in; in the corner of his eye he noticed Hermione tense. New girl? The only new person was Ryou, who was talking to Tonks by the kitchen sink with his back facing them...and then it dawned on him.

"Hate to break it to you, Ron, but that's not a girl," said Harry, trying not to laugh.

"'Course it is!"

"And how do you figure that?" asked Hermione. She had relaxed quickly after seeing that Ron had simply been talking about Ryou.

"She has long hair," said Ron, nodding sagely.

"Boys have long hair too you know, look at Bill!" said Hermione.

"Yeah, well...well...look at the figure! She's tiny too, really thin. I'd bet ten galleons she's a girl!"

"I wouldn't do that. That's not a girl, mate," said Harry, grinning.

"It's a girl," Ron said flatly. "I know a girl when I see one!"

It was at this point when Ryou turned around to Mrs. Weasley who had just called him; Ron dropped his chocolate on the floor, gaping widely.

"Still think it's a girl?" said Hermione, trying and failing not to smile.

"I think you owe us ten galleons."

"Shut up," said Ron, scowling, and reached over to pick up his chocolate piece off the floor.

"Anyways, I've got something to tell you both," said Harry, lowering his voice and looking around for unwanted listeners; the closest was Lupin, who had gone back to his dinner at the table and was now helping himself to ample amounts of cranberry sauce. "Listen, about Bakura..."

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley had worn Ryou down until he finally settled on having a bowl of soup. Mrs. Weasley returned to her cookbooks (it seemed that she was hoping to convince Ryou to have more later, because she was cooking another chicken). Ryou, while waiting patiently, was now conversing with an eager Tonks.

"You can change your appearance at will? Into anything?"

"Yup," said Tonks proudly. "And Metamorphmagus are rare. They're born, not made, right? It's dead handy, being one, you never know when you'll need those skills. Great for undercover work."

"Amazing..." Ryou said in an awe-filled voice.

"Sorry I don't have the soup ready yet," Mrs. Weasley called distractedly, waving her wand in all sorts of complicated motions and making ingredients fly over their heads. "Where do you live? Do your parents know you're out this late? They must be worried sick."

Ryou had been desperately hoping this topic wouldn't come up, but he supposed it would eventually.

"I... I live in Japan... I haven't seen my father for months..." This stopped Mrs. Weasley effectively in her tracks.

"Your mother would be -"

"My mother died," said Ryou, sounding a little bitter. "She died ages ago, and I've lived alone for..." he trailed off. Why was he telling his life's story to someone he had just met? 'Because she's showing interest in you,' a little voice in the back of his mind that didn't belong to a spirit said. 'You like someone finally caring, don't you?'

"That's it then. You can stay with us," Mrs. Weasley said, rapping her wand on the kitchen counter for emphasis and making Ryou (and some of the cutlery) jump a foot in the air, giving Ryou a look daring him to say no. "You can get the twins' old room."

Ignoring the fact that he didn't know who the twins were, Ryou shook his head furiously, acutely aware of the sympathetic look he was getting from Tonks. "I don't want to impose –"

"Have you even come of age yet?" said Tonks in a hushed voice.

"Well, I'm sixteen -" he started, confused.

"You _are_ still underage!" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley, making him wish he hadn't said anything. "Underage wizards can't live by themselves! You _will_ be staying with us until you turn seventeen," and she said it with a sound of finality telling him that there was to be no further discussion.

Ryou heaved a great sigh, but he knew when he was beaten. He just hoped Bakura didn't mind. Ryou suddenly frowned. Should he mention Bakura...?

_Possession is received no better in the magical world then it is in the non-magical world, if not worse. I advise for you not to tell them unless it is absolutely necessary._

That answered his question effectively enough. Realizing he had just zoned out again (he was guilty of it a lot), he tuned back into Tonks and Mrs. Weasley's conversation.

"I'll go fix his room up for him," Tonks said brightly. Mrs. Weasley flinched slightly; she obviously remembered the accident with the gravy bowl from before.

"How about I send Ginny up with you to help then," said Mrs. Weasley. Ginny, who was sitting at the table again, immediately started protesting.

"But Mum –"

"_Up_," said Mrs. Weasley in a dangerous voice, brandishing the fork like a sword. Ginny cowered slightly, following Tonks out to the stairs while shooting one last curious look at Ryou before both disappeared from the room.

"You must feel so out of place here, but we will do our best to make sure you feel at home. Living alone, and just a _child_," she shook her head disapprovingly, "it's not right, what was your father _thinking_..."

The comment about his father stung slightly, but Ryou felt a great deal of gratitude for all the concern. Staying here seemed like a better idea if everyone was like her, he couldn't help but think.

"Could you tell me a bit more about the twins please?"

"Well, since you asked," said Mrs. Weasley, now pouring over an open book titled _One Minute Feasts – It's Magic!_, "Fred and George," Ryou supposed these were the twins, "opened up their own business – Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, have you ever heard of it? And now they have a joke shop, which couldn't be going better!" she said fondly, tapping a bowl with her wand; a creamy soup poured from her wand and into the bowl, sloshing just so a few drops splattered onto the counter.

Ryou nodded his head though he was a bit lost, and wondered what kind of practical jokes a wizard would play on someone.

"I'll admit, I had my doubts at first, but after the huge success they had last year, I had to admit I was wrong!" she said, beaming at him. "They've been living up in the flats above their shop because it's just so busy -" Ryou's heart gave a small flop at this statement, being once again reminded of his friends at home, "so their rooms are empty now." She drew a couple of cups out of thin air and offered one to him. "Drink, dear?"

"Oh, no thank you," said Ryou quickly. "I was actually wondering if I could put my bag in my room now, please?

"_Ah_," said Mrs. Weasley, looking slightly disappointed that she couldn't continue to boast about her son's achievements. "Well, I suppose Harry could show you, unless Ron is feeling better of course. And don't forget your soup!"

"Thank you," Ryou said, bowing his head slightly, "and I'll come back for the soup," he added as an after thought. He made his way to the other side of the room where the three sat huddled in a quiet discussion, squeezing past the scrubbed wooden table and the fireplace. Ryou approached them and –

There was a loud pounding at the door, and muffled shouting; a hush fell over the room until it was so quiet that one could hear a pin drop. Mr. Weasley stepped into the room quietly, and Mrs. Weasley looked at him worriedly.

"Arthur, did you invite anyone else over?"

"No," said Mr. Weasley grimly, "Everyone, get your wands out."

No one said a word as all wands were brought out and pointed at the door, including Ron, though his face was a pale green and he was using Hermione's shoulder to support him. Even Ryou, who didn't feel any more secure with or without the wand, still pulled it out of his back pocket and held it out, gripping it tightly as Mrs. Weasley approached the door. Mr. Weasley patted him reassuringly on his shoulder, though his gaze remained cheerless, never leaving the door.

"Who's there?" Mrs. Weasley said, in a nervous but loud voice, face pressed against the wood. "State your business!"

There was a moment of silence, where the knocking stopped. The sound of pages turning could be faintly heard.

"Me - I - here - seeing - white - child...?" said the accented voice slowly, each word accompanied with more page turning. Harry thought he must have heard wrong and judging by the expressions on everyone else's face, they seemed to think the same too. None let down their guard, however. Ryou paused though, lowering the wand slightly. He recognized that voice from somewhere...

Mr. Weasley stepped up to the door this time, slightly confused but worry still present on his face.

"Declare yourself!" said Mr. Weasley.

"Saying that again, thanks - er, please?" said the voice, sounding just as confused as the others inside the house. Ryou, however, had finally placed the voice. Though he hadn't heard it often, it was unmistakable. He stepped forward, tugging on Mr. Weasley's sleeve gently.

"S-Sir? I think I know who that is. Could I try talking to him?"

"Be careful then," said Mr. Weasley, rubbing his head wearily, and let Ryou through.

"Hello?" Ryou said loudly, this time speaking in Japanese. "Malik? Is that you?"

"The whole world's gone mad," Ron muttered to Harry and Hermione, all three staring at Ryou as if he'd grown another head.

"Bakura? Bakura Ryou?" said the voice now identified as Malik in Japanese also, equally surprised. "Oh thank - I finally found you! And I'm glad you were here too, you can only translate words so fast with this stupid English-Arabic dictionary –"

"What are you doing here?" asked Ryou. While it was great to finally see someone he knew again, the shock of meeting anyone this far away from Japan had worn off. Why would Malik travel practically halfway across the world to try and find him?

"Can we please talk about this later? It's really cold out here."

"Oh!" exclaimed Ryou. "I'm so sorry, I almost forgot!" Switching back to English, he turned back to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who had identical confused expressions on their face. "Can we let him in, please? He's a friend of mine."

"Are you sure? Did you ask him a question to identify himself? It's Ministry procedure, it could be a Death Eater using Polyjuice Potion," said Mr. Weasley seriously.

"No, I didn't..." said Ryou, ignoring the fact that he had no idea what Polyjuice Potion was. He frowned in thought until an idea came to him; he called softly out the door, switching languages again. "What... What item do I have?" Only someone who knew about the items would understand what he was talking about, so this should be a perfect question.

"The millennium ring," said Malik, sounding a bit aggravated. "What's taking so long? Can I come in now?"

Ryou nodded to Mr. Weasley, and he opened the door. The teenager, shivering slightly, stumbled in the door, gold bracelets clinking against each other as he rubbed his hands together. Ryou rushed to him and threw his arms around him laughing happily, catching Malik off-guard.

"Oh, you can't possibly understand how much I missed seeing everyone," Ryou murmured in Japanese. "It's been months since I've seen my friends, my father..."

Malik blinked, putting his arms around Ryou and patting awkwardly. He hadn't really known him that well; he was surprised that he'd be greeted so warmly. But to be away from everyone he ever knew for so long? It was all _his_ fault, he thought angrily. Ryou being stranded out here and of course...he couldn't even bring himself to think of the other thing that had been plaguing him for so long.

Meanwhile, the other three teenagers were goggling Malik, and considering Malik's odd appearance, they had every right to do so. Long, messy blond hair that reached slightly past his shoulders, tanned skin, and the strangest violet eyes any of them had ever seen, teenagers like him weren't a common sight (though they had thought that about Ryou also, and they were now wondering exactly how many of these strange people were now wandering around out on the streets). There was gold everywhere too; the teenager was covered in it. Golden bands on his wrists, arms, a golden chain hanging from the collar of his lilac belly shirt, and two glittering golden earrings half-hidden behind his hair caught their attention. When he turned around, they even noticed a golden rod hanging off his belt loop. Mr. Weasley was looking at him too, though with a bit less interest then the others. Mrs. Weasley had bustled back into the kitchen, muttering about more food needed for guests, and Lupin was breaking off another slab of chocolate.

Ryou cleared his throat softly. "This is Malik Ishtar. He's one of my," he faltered for a moment. Were they friends? Not really, but still... Malik was the only one he had here in Britain. "He's one of my friends from home," he said more confidently.

"Doesn't speak any English at all, does he?" Mr. Weasley asked Ryou curiously.

"Well, he's got something to translate with..." said Ryou, gesturing to the backpack Malik had left by the doorway, "And I'm sure he knows the odd phrase here and there, but I don't think he knows much else."

"What were you speaking to him in?"

"Japanese," said Ryou, shrugging slightly, "though his first language is Arabic. I can translate for him, though," he offered.

"Right," said Mr. Weasley, running a hand through what was left of his red hair tiredly. "If you could go ahead and do that, it would be great. I'm sure there's a spell for translating... In fact, I'm positive one was created a few months ago... I believe I remember Artemis Gimply bragging about it to everyone at the ministry. Now I wish I had written down the incantation... I'll have to try and get it tomorrow then. It's far too late to do anything about it tonight."

Lupin held a piece of chocolate in his hands and was examining Malik with slight interest.

"Ask him if he had any problems with the Dementors," said Lupin to Ryou, "and if he says yes, tell him to eat the chocolate. Though he should probably have some anyways."

Ryou nodded, turning to Malik who was looking around the room with interest. He wasn't quite sure how to put this into words.

"Have you ran across, er... Well, gotten this really cold, depressing feeling - umm... Have you ran into any cloaked... things?" said Ryou awkwardly.

Malik blinked, turning back to Ryou.

"Well, other then you," Ryou rolled his eyes at this, pulling unconsciously at the sleeve of his cloak, "I thought I saw these weird black things flying up in the sky, and there was a moment where everything got really cold...but that's it."

"Ah," said Ryou. "I suppose you should eat this then. This man, Lupin, is going to give you some chocolate to eat, okay? It helps, it really does. I had some earlier."

Malik took a bite, taken by surprise as warmth spread throughout his body. "This is good," he said through a mouthful of chocolate. Suppressing the urge to ask the man for some more, he finally noticed Harry, Ron, and Hermione staring at him and frowned. "What're you looking at?" he said, forgetting that they couldn't understand him. He glared harder when he recognized Ron, and began muttering venomously to Ryou.

"What is he saying?" asked Ron curiously, turning to Ryou for help.

"Well," Ryou muttered, slightly red at Malik's comments, "Among other things, he said 'It's you! That, er... That idiot... dim-witted... clumsy oaf... Though that's not literally what he said." More quietly, he added, "What he did say was much worse."

Ryou had obviously not spoken quietly enough, because Ron heard him, and was quick to give Malik a rude hand gesture. Unfortunately for him, Mrs. Weasley had walked in, a bewitched tray of chicken floating in front of her, and saw it. With a swish of her wand, his fingers locked together.

"MUM!" Ron hollered, reaching desperately to pull his wand back out with his unjinxed hand, Harry laughing beside him and Hermione looking torn between also laughing and helping.

"I've warned you plenty of times before!" scolded Mrs. Weasley. "And don't think I'll hesitate to jinx your fingers together next time, too!"

Malik's eyes went as wide as saucers at the sight.

"What the hell just happened!" said Malik in a furious whisper to Ryou. "D-Did you see that? The tray, that kid's fingers?" Ryou bit his lip. Having for the most part adjusted to the wizarding world, he had already forgotten that Malik would not have the faintest idea what was going on.

"I'll explain that later," said Ryou, but then frowned slightly. "Do you have anywhere to stay, Malik?"

Malik scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Umm, no. I was going to grab a room at a hotel, but...I got kinda sidetracked."

Ryou sighed.

"Well, I don't know what you can do then...though I could always ask... I'd hate to burden them even more," said Ryou anxiously, brows furrowed, wringing his hands together, "but I don't want to leave you without a place to sleep, either..."

"Ask them for me," said Malik quickly. "Please," he added.

Ryou turned to Mrs. Weasley in response, who was hacking at the chicken furiously with a knife.

"Mrs. Weasley...?"

She looked up and her gaze softened, to his immense relief.

"I was wondering," he said, still eyeing the knife in her hands nervously, "Malik doesn't have a place to stay either, so..."

"If he's a friend of yours, then he's welcome here," said Mrs. Weasley warmly, cutting a generous piece of chicken for Malik. Though all Malik heard was nonsense, he took the warmth in her voice positively and managed to smile back at her, while trying to think of a way to convey to her that he was a vegetarian. Ryou nodded thankfully.

"Do you mind if we head for the room now? I was going to before, but..." asked Ryou.

"It's on the second level, the door on the left. You'll see it right when you go up the stairs," said Mrs. Weasley. Ryou translated to Malik and tugged him out of the kitchen ("But I'm hungry!" "You can eat after.") into the narrow stairway with both of their bags in hand and past Tonks and Ginny as the two came back from their room.

"Another one? Where are you all coming from?" said Tonks, bewildered. "We just got one bed set up in the room now, so if you need any help for the second –"

"We're fine, but thank you anyways!" said Ryou, rushing past them with Malik in tow, who was muttering in Arabic in a rather annoyed tone.

"Did your friend drink a Babbling Beverage?" Tonks called from down the hallway, Ginny staring curiously at Malik from behind her.

"Doesn't speak English," said Ryou, pulling Malik up the rickety stairs and into the door on the left.

There wasn't much to the twin's room; cardboard boxes were scattered across the floor, all sealed and unmarked. A large wardrobe had been pushed against the wall to make room for two beds, and the bedside table that separated them. One of the beds was already made completely, and on the unmade bed lay a pile of newly washed sheets and blankets. There was a strange smell in the room, that someone had obviously attempted to cover with a more pleasant aroma, judging by the large vase of flowers.

"Gunpowder," Ryou muttered, wrinkling his nose slightly. He looked at Malik, who was looking at the empty back wall in a contemplative manner, as if he had never seen anything more interesting in his life. Even when Malik finally walked to the bed and took the mattress cover off the top of the pile, opening and spreading it, the silence in the room was horribly awkward.

"So... sure beats a hotel room, hm?" Ryou finally said, hoping to break the ice. Whether it was Ryou's horrible attempt at humour or the fact that Malik had just picked up what looked like a dirty grey feather duster from on top of the next sheet (until it opened one eye and gave a weak, mournful hoot), Malik didn't say a word, simply moving the limp owl onto the floor.

Ryou gave up after, simply resigning himself to helping Malik make his bed. Together they worked, Ryou in a slightly depressed silence and Malik in a thoughtful one, both mechanically fixing Malik's bed, until finally –

"I want to talk to him," said Malik, setting down the comforter onto his bed and turning to Ryou.

Ryou stopped in the middle of unfolding Malik's sheets to look up at him. They both knew exactly who 'him' was. Of course that was what Malik wanted, and he was stupid to expect otherwise. There had been a small, hopeful voice in the back of Ryou's mind telling him that maybe, just maybe, Malik had come to actually find him for his friends, and convince him to come home... There was a moment's pause until Ryou nodded mutely.

The change was almost unnoticeable if Malik hadn't known what to look for; white hair became more tousled and brown eyes narrowed; Bakura was out. To his surprise though, the first thing Bakura did was take out one of those funny sticks that the woman (Mrs. Weasley, he assumed) had used before. With a complicated waving motion, the door behind him shut with a loud click and an out of place clang that reminded him of a gong. Malik's eyes narrowed; Bakura knew how to do those strange things those other people did, but how? It all had to do with that stick...

"Well, now that we have some privacy -"

"'How did you do that?"

It took Bakura a moment to realize what Malik was talking about, but when he did, the wicked grin on his face gave Malik the distinct feeling of one left in the dark.

"You probably shouldn't let them know that you're a muggle, you know," said Bakura in a vague voice.

"A - A _what?_"

"A muggle," repeated Bakura lightly. "A person without magic... Though now that I think about it, you can't be a muggle, or you wouldn't have been able to use a millennium item..."

"Since when have there been names for people who don't have items?" said Malik, still put out about being called a 'muggle'.

"You've misunderstood me," said Bakura, voice suddenly serious. "A muggle is unable to utilize any form of magic, millennium items or otherwise."

It took a moment for Malik to figure out what he was saying, and another was wasted gaping at the spirit. Other magic? He shook his head mentally; for a moment he had actually believed him!

"There isn't any other magic except for the millennium items," said Malik confidently; this fact had been drilled into his head ever since he was a young boy. "At least none that are still around today. All of the other magic has been long forgotten."

"On the contrary, there is one other type, a magic based off all of the many old and dead magic...a melting pot of magic, if you will. Though not nearly as powerful as the items, especially when combined, it certainly does exist. Or do you have another way of explaining what you've seen here already?"

Malik opened his mouth to say something, but then faltered; how could those strange incidents be otherwise explained? The only thing that really fit was what Bakura was saying...

Bakura grinned at Malik's indecision.

"You've just stepped into a whole new world."

"And just what do you know about it?" Malik shot back angrily. "You've been in Japan for years, I've heard, trying to get your hands on the items! When did you find out so much about this –" Malik knew that by saying the words, he would be admitting to it, but there was no other way around it, "– other magic?"

"You don't need to know how much I know, or why, or even when," said Bakura. He looked at Malik calculatingly. "Not until you answer a few of my own questions. What exactly are you doing here? A bit far from home, don't you think?"

Bakura had just turned the conversation on its head. Malik fought hard to keep his temper down. "It's no business of yours –"

"As soon as you stepped into this house you made it my business," said Bakura softly. "So what is it then? You are rather far away from home now, Malik Ishtar."

"I'm not telling you," said Malik, bristling.

"Of course not," said Bakura, turning away and pacing. His voice was now a menacing hiss. "But don't think I do not know already. _They_ sent you."

The last sentence was almost inaudible, but to Malik it seemed to echo around the room. His heart was pounding against his chest. _He already knew._

Bakura turned back around to face him, eying him like a cat would a mouse.

"That's not the only reason you're here, of course, at least not for you... Do they already know?" said Bakura, lip curling into a sneer. "Have you told them yet?"

Malik felt hatred welling up inside of him, but he kept his mouth shut.

"So I take it that you _are_ still sore about my going away present?"

Something inside him snapped. Malik's eyes flashed, and in one moment he had Bakura pinned against the wall, hand at his throat.

"Y-you bastard! You just have to give – to give _it_ back, didn't you?"

"I thought you, of all people, would appreciate the millennium rod –"

"You know that's not what I'm talking about!" screeched Malik, no longer caring who heard.

"Temper, temper, Malik," Bakura said, clicking his tongue in a disappointed manner, "for all of your talk, it seems as though you want nothing more then to bring him out –"

Malik closed his hand tightly around Bakura's neck until Bakura was struggling for air. Trembling with rage, he brought his face close to Bakura's reddening face until they were almost nose-to-nose.

"You," Malik hissed, "brought this upon me. You brought him back to me! I didn't want this!"

"Killing me – will make you – just like him –" choked Bakura. "You – haven't changed – as much as they – believe you to have – I see –"

Bakura barely caught himself when Malik dropped him and backed away, anger still etched onto his features but fear evident in his eyes. His hand reached backwards of its own accord to grip the golden item hooked onto the loop of his belt.

"I'm not... I'm not like him!" he whispered fearfully. "I'm not...!"

Malik cried out and gripped his head with both hands, doubling over in pain while Bakura watched passively from the sidelines, massaging his neck gingerly where bruises were beginning to form. When Malik stood up straight again, blonde hair flying out in all directions and the symbol of the items pulsing faintly and almost hidden on his forehead, Bakura simply regarded him casually.

"A pleasure to have you join me, Yami no Malik."

His dull violet eyes were fixed on the millennium rod as he pulled it out from his belt, tanned fingers caressing the gold almost lovingly.

"Marik."

"What's that?" said Bakura, raising his eyebrow questioningly.

"I am not Yami no Malik anymore... My name is now Marik."

"Giving yourself a name?" said Bakura, looking at the dark being with amusement. "The name 'Yami no Malik' describes exactly who – or rather, what you are. You are nothing but a creation the dark emotions of a troubled boy, so filled with emotion that he, without even knowing it, forced those discarded emotions away, where they formed another personality," and Bakura smiled here, a wicked gleeful smile showing off pointed teeth, "_you_. But still, you remained to be a personality that was still a part of him. You are nothing _but_ a darker Malik."

"I'm no longer a part of him –"

"– Not after the pharaoh was through with you in Battle City," said Bakura smoothly. "I am well aware of that. I also know that he had destroyed most of you when you were banished, and most of your power with it. You think I would bring you back after what you did to me if otherwise? I am no fool."

"We seem to differ in opinion there," scoffed Marik, eye still locked on the rod. He began spinning it around his fingers absent-mindedly. "I don't understand how your mind works, Yami Bakura. Bringing me back after I what I did to you... If you think I am powerless now, you are sorely mistaken. I can still kill you in an instant. In fact..." he continued, eyes glittering with malice, "I could kill you right now." He deftly removed the sheath from the dagger of the rod, the item not ceasing in its spinning for a moment.

"I don't think so, actually. You see, I know your little secret, _Marik,_" Bakura drawled.

The millennium rod froze mid-twirl, and Marik finally looked up at him. Bakura was grinning widely.

"Secret?" said Marik coolly. "I must not have been informed. There is nothing stopping me from slitting your throat -"

"Then kill me now."

Silence greeted the challenge. This comment was obviously unexpected, and though most looking at Marik would have thought he was unfazed, Bakura's grin only grew in size; as a thief he had an eye for details, and he had noted Marik's jaw tighten slightly and dull eyes narrow by a fraction.

Finally, Marik broke the silence to say, "A bit bold of you."

"Really," Bakura said, cold eyes alive, "I didn't think you would mind such an...opportunity. So, go on then!" he said, arms spreading wide as if welcoming the possible attack, "Hurry up, do it now!"

For the first time in his short existence, Marik hesitated; the moment cost him. It seemed that Bakura wasn't planning on allowing him more then a second. In one fluid movement, Bakura had taken a hidden dagger out of his cloak, crossed the room, and had the dagger pressed against Marik's throat. For a minute, the two stared at each other, Bakura triumphantly and Marik angrily, but no, never fearful.

"I believe I've made a point," whispered Bakura, pushing the tip into Marik's neck just enough so that a bead of blood oozed out -

There was noise outside the door; someone shouted "_Alohamora_!" and a moment later "It's not working!"

It was all Malik needed. It seemed that when Marik had been distracted, Malik had seized the opportunity and taken control of his body again; he looked around, disoriented but triumphant. The look was soon replaced with fury when Malik took note of their position.

"Get the hell off of me!" yelled Malik, pushing Bakura away; Bakura, taken by surprise, stumbled backwards, but it was obvious that Malik was no longer his top priority either. He stowed away the dagger back into his robe while Malik wiped his neck with the back of his hand. He made an annoyed noise at the red stain on his hand, rubbing it on his pants.

Bakura looked at the door, irritated, before disappearing into his soul room; Ryou took over in his absence, slightly confused.

"What happened –" he started, but stopped when the yelling outside the door grew louder, all vying with each other, so only the occasional phrase such as "open the door!" and "unlock it!" came through, punctuated with more occasional shouts of "_Alohamora!_"

Ryou looked to Malik, who was avoiding his gaze stubbornly.

"Why can't they get in –"

_I sealed it with a spell,_ said Bakura.

Ryou looked at the door, wide-eyed. _A spell? But what do I do to let them in?_

_Another spell to cancel out the first, of course. Flick your wand hand, imagine the enchantment lifting off the door, and say '__Finite'._

"Okay," he murmured. He flicked the wand cautiously and whispered, "F-finite...?"

_If you expect anything to happen, you need to have more confidence and believe that it will._

Ryou nodded slowly. "Alright..." he said and cleared his throat awkwardly, "_Finite."_

He watched, amazed, as the door unsealed itself; it flew open and Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny fell on each other in a pile in the doorway; apparently, they hadn't actually expected the door to open after the first few times it failed. Bakura separated from him into his spiritual form, invisible to all but his vessel, and laughed at them as they struggled to untangle themselves while Ryou stared at his wand. This hadn't been the first time that he'd attempted a spell; in fact, it was the complete opposite; Bakura had tried to teach him many spells while they were on the run, searching for these strange 'horcruxes'. This was simply one of the first times it had worked out so well. Ryou could feel the pride swell up inside him; he was getting much better.

Malik, on the other hand, was glaring stonily at the Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny.

"I'm going out for some air," he said stiffly to Ryou, who had no time to react before he was stepping over the four who were still in a heap on the floor and already out the door again.

After getting lost once or twice on the way down, Malik stepped out of the back door, feeling slightly sick, though he ignored it. He didn't plan to go far, and he didn't. Malik sat down on one of the very rusty cauldrons that lay scattered in the yard, pushing off the rubber boot that sat on it. He stretched out slightly and looked back towards where he had come from. Malik had never taken a good look at the house when he had first arrived, and even with just the dim light of the moon to see with, his mouth was soon hanging wide open. In front of him, behind the sign that read 'The Burrow' which looked as if it had been nailed into the ground on an angle, stood the building that he had just left. It was a few stories high, and was so crooked that it should have been impossible for it to still be standing, but there it still stood, tall and proud. Malik could count at least four (or maybe five?) chimneys poking out of the roof. He couldn't help but wonder why it hadn't collapsed already.

If Malik had been confused earlier this evening, it didn't even compare to how he felt now. He was sorely tempted to kick the fat brown chicken that was currently pecking at the ground too close to his pant leg for comfort.

Malik felt as if he had been thrown into some strange alternate universe...which he had been, he supposed, this wizarding world. He was now staying at some British family's lopsided home, things were happening magically on their own when a person waved a stick, and he couldn't understand what any of them were saying (besides Ryou when he translated the meaningless gibberish into Japanese for him to understand). But one important thing had happened. Malik had finally succeeded in what he and the others had been trying to do for months; find Ryou and Bakura.

And now what? He knew what the next step of the plan was, but there was no way he could do it, or at least not by himself. Malik took a cell phone out of his pocket, fingering it idly. He wasn't sure if these other people or their strange foreign magic would complicate things, but unfortunately, he wasn't gifted with foresight; he could only hope for the best.

He flipped the cell phone open, dialing the number quickly. A calm voice on the other end answered him.

"Hello? Who's speaking?"

"Isis? It's Malik. I've found them."

* * *

And the plot thickens! XD

I've spent so much time writing and rewriting this chapter, it's ridiculous...there are at least two scenes I've postponed for later chapters.

And some quick apologies...I won't be around from about mid-July to mid-August due to an abundance in soccer tournaments (one being about a week long) and a very long Europe trip. In fact, I'm leaving today, and just put huge overtime into the story to get the chapter out before I left. No computer access for a month! So there probably won't be any updates for about two-ish months I'm estimating...but I've got some of the next chapter planned exactly already. Heh heh...there's one part that I love...

Apologies to anyone reading My Little Obsession, I didn't finished the next chapter on time...

Please leave me some reviews to look at when I come back. :)

Updated: July 19, 2006

Edited (just for grammar): Monday, February 5, 2007 (Look! I changed the vegetarian thing! :3 Thanks again!)

XD I'll do a rewrite-type thing later


End file.
